Lord John Stark of Winterfell John's horse trotted along the cobblestone streets of the capital of Westeros, King's Landing, his family's carriage following behind. His sword was at his hip and his eyes were on road in front of him. They were approaching the famed Red Keep, the stronghold that two hundred years ago, had been taken back by Daenarys Targaryen. Finally, John reached the castle and was welcomed into the courtyard. He dismounted his horse which was lead away to the stables. His mother came out of the carriage, the northern-born woman turning her nose up at the salty smell of sea air. He walked with her into the castle where servants greeted them and led them to their luxurious quarters with promises of their belongings being delivered later in the day. The whole of the kingdom was in King's Landing. And most of the highborn lords and ladies would be staying for the next few weeks. John's friend, and the new king, Daeron Targaryen, would have his coronation tomorrow. To celebrate the young dragon was holding a large festival. Feasts every night, a tourney with the promise of knighthood awaiting the winner, and a carnival on top of that, filled with entertainers from across the Narrow Sea. John was taken aback by the extravagance that he saw from his balcony. He was a long way from home.

Khailey Lannister Although she had only been in King's Landing for a few days, already she was sick of the smell, sick of all the fat, squawking noblewomen, and sick of her father reminding her each and every day why she was here. She knew why she was here, and she had no intention of disappointing him. A marriage to another powerful house was what House Lannister needed in order to help them return to their former glory, and she planned to make sure that it happened. Getting out of bed, Khailey slipped out of her nightgown and went to her closet to find one of her best gowns to where for the day. The room that she had been given to stay in was much smaller than her room back in Casterly Rock, which was something that she was not pleased about. But complaining about it to her father had yielded no results, so she decided to just make the best of it. Settling for a red gown with a gold trim, she got dressed and then braided her long golden hair before leaving the room to go look for her father. Her father's squire had delivered a message saying that he wanted to see her right away, more than likely to introduce her to another lord that he thought would make a suitable match for her. Khailey wondered who it was that he had found this time. Last time, it had been a Tyrell man even older than her father. Thankfully, she had talked him out of that match. She hoped that whoever he found this time was someone at least a little more pleasant to look upon.

King Daeron Targaryen of Westeros Daeron was awoke by his mother ripping the curtains apart, allowing light to invade his chambers. He shot up, surprised by the sudden radiance of the light. His room was covered in old garments and plates. His mother scowled at him. "I've allowed you certain liberties but it is time for you to present yourself as a king," the Queen Mother said. She left the room, her message having been delivered as servants rushed in to dress him. After his rude awakening, Daeron was led down to the royal family's quarters where he broke fast with his mother, the two remaining silent most of the time. Towards the end however, his mother spoke. "You will have to make a decision today, Daeron. You have yet to fill the position of Hand of the King. And you have a lot of choices," she said, looking over at her son. Daeron looked back at her, surprised. "I was planning on John. He is my most trusted friend and offers some of the best advice in the Seven Kingdoms," he said. Olenna smiled and shook her head. "Daeron that isn't how things work. And you know that. You can't give the position to a boy as green as John Stark, no matter how close are families are. What about your cousin Gwayne? It is well known that he seeks the position." Daeron had waved his mother off, telling her he'd think about it. Which was exactly what he was doing. He was wandering the halls, thinking. Being the king wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Lord Jakob Frey, Lord of the Crossing Jakob prefered to travel by horse, a carriage was loud, a lot less stable on the stone and made him look pompous. Finally pulling up in front of the Red Keep Jakob smiled, the journey was finally over and now he could focus on what he came here to do. Stooping in the cramped space he heard the click of his guards opening the door. Stepping into the warm glow of the sun he stood upright and stretched out his muscles which had become deadened by the journey. Waiting an orderly stepped forward and directed his retinue as to where they could deposit the Frey carriage as well as how to bring Jakob's effects into his room. Nodding briefly at the orderly he walked up the grand stairs into one of the most imposing castles he had ever seen. Despite his distaste for the squalor of King's Landing, he understood why kings and queens made their home in the Red Keep. Walking amongst the history he quickly took in the classical scenes of battle and glory that adorned the walls. Turning a corner he was escorted by the Gold Coats and his own personal retinue towards the throne room. Jakob knew he had to present himself to the Young Dragon before retiring for some rest, though he doubted that King Daeron even considered Jakob an important banner. Finally arriving at the grand entrance Jakob paused, breathing deeply he nodded and the large wooden doors were opened up for him to enter. The hall was filled with the faces of nobility and grandeur, all awaiting their King to take his place in court. Each of the lords would need to declare their allegiance to the King, before a short time of networking and eating, and finally the announcement of the Hand of the King. Jakob was quite far down on the order of lords and ladies to swear allegiance. This meant he had a chance to look over who was present and who wasn't. Rumours circulating the court had reached his ears and he had a great many people to speak too before the end of the next few days. Nodding to his men they spread out across the edge of the room with the other guards, he would not need their direct protection here. No one was foolish enough to kill a noble here. Having arrived alone also allowed him to cast an eye over the younger ladies that were present. He was still looking for a suitable bride to both secure his line and secure a fast ally of the Freys. The Latest Walder Frey had given the Frey name some infamy in regards to marriage and so Jakob was determined to right past wrongs of the family, even if he felt no real connection too it.

Ser Vernan Lannister The grizzled old knight stood in a fine tunic of red as he waited for the king to make his appearance. He couldn't honestly say that he was eager to hear the young dragon's decision. He doubted that it would be anything that he wanted to hear. No doubt the king would choose either the Stark boy or the Lord of Highgarden, neither of which were any friends to the Lannisters and did nothing to help his own house. He couldn't believe that there was not a single Lannister among the small council. It was just plain wrong as far as he was concerned. This dragon clearly had no inclination of how to rule. Unfortunately, there was nothing that Ser Vernan could do about it. His brother Martyn Lannister was Lord of Casterly Rock, but he was timid and fearful of the king's wrath. He needed Vernan to show him that the Lannister's had allies, and that they would have the Iron Throne if they seized their chance now. If a marriage could be found for Khailey to gain the power of another strong house to the Lannister's cause, it would shift the balance in their favor and perhaps his brother would then approve of striking out at the young dragon. Khailey Lannister The young lioness entered the hall and looked around for her father, but she saw no sign of him in the gathered crowd. She sighed, put on a dignified smile and started to move through the crowd with her back and shoulders straight and her hands locked in front of her as her septa had taught her to walk. She moved with grace as she crossed the hall and no doubt caught the eye of many of the men in the hall.

Lord John Stark of Winterfell John finally decided that it was time to go down to the ceremony. Every house in the realm was here to swear fealty to the king. John, being a Stark, was higher on that list than most so he decided he best hurry. He retrieved his mother from the room next door and they descended stairs until they reached the crowded throne room. John was also nervous about Daeron's largest decision today. The Hand of the King. His mother told him that he was one of the better candidates. And John didn't like that at all. He'd grown up with Daeron and as such, was very familiar with his personality. He was always entitled and had a famously short temper. But John feared it would get worse now that Daeron had such power. He feared that Daeron would be loathe to take his advice. John took a place in the hall near Ser Vernan Lannister. John smiled politely. "Hello Ser Vernan. I expect your journey was as uneventful as my own?" John asked. He had no love for Lannisters but it never hurt to be on one's good side.

Ser Vernan Lannister He hadn't been expecting to be approached by the Stark boy, but he gave him a curt nod and said. "My journey was much shorter than your own, so yes uneventful was a good way to describe it. How are things in the North?" Vernan didn't consider the Starks as allies of his house, but he knew that friends and enemies switched often and to see someone as an enemy on principal was not a wise decision.

Lord Jakob Frey, Lord of the Crossing Jakob grimaced as he saw the Stark boy arrive. The Freys had always been looked down on by the other lords and ladies, the Starks being one of the worst, and despite the fact Jakob attempted to break the stereotypes associated with his family people continued to gossip. Next too John was Vernan Lannister, one of the gentry who he had had little contact with. Dealing more with Vernan's brother on state matters. Whilst the larger houses were getting ready the other less notable nobles were still milling around. Surveying the crowd he spotted a few faces he remembered, and then one face in particular caught his eye. The striking blonde hair and holier-than-thou walk and a figure that looked crafted by the heavens, it was without a doubt a Lannister. Though Jakob was struggling to remember her name. It was strange to see her away from the rest, especially amongst the other less noble houses. Sighing he walked over and introduced himself. "It seems the lioness is walking amongst the sheep today, rather than moving with her pride."

Khailey Lannister Khailey had just spotted her father speaking with John Stark, which she found a little odd, when suddenly she heard someone speaking to her and she stopped and turned to see a man that she did not recognize approach her. He was clearly a knight and a lord of some importance, though, and she smiled warmly at him. "And are you a sheep, my lord? I should think not. A man such as yourself should certainly be associated with something more noble than a sheep, don't you agree?"

Gwayne Tyrell - Lord of Highgarden It was a lovely day, wasn’t it? It always seemed to be in King’s Landing - the shining sun and the cool sea breeze - much like how it was back home, in the Reach. Of course, the same couldn’t be said for the North. Gwayne found the reactions of first-timers to be an endless source of amusement; so dazzled by the extravagance and luxury of the Red Keep, they gawk like fishes while stepping on all the wrong toes. Still, he was confident that in time, they would learn - one had to learn in order to survive this nest of vipers. In the Great Hall, the last of the lords and ladies were starting to stream in. As usual, Gwayne and his wife, Mina, had arrived fashionably early. It simply wouldn’t do to be late for the coronation, would it? No matter how good of a position the Tyrells were in, it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. If he was to become Hand of the King, he needed to make as good of an impression as possible on the Young Dragon and his contemporaries. Of course, as the Lord of Highgarden, he had heard news from his whisperers of rebellion; of lords who thought Daeron was far too green to rule. Such words might’ve held no truth to them, but it was still something he had to consider. Although the Tyrells have always been the ones to flourish in times of adversity. As he looked around, Gwayne noticed a few individuals of interest. Two Lannisters, a Stark, and the infamous Jakob Frey. His lineage was a source of debate amongst nobles, and even Gwayne himself couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved by the young man. The Frey’s might’ve been all but decimated, but Jakob seemed… unpredictable, to say the least, and that wasn’t a quality he much appreciated. Perhaps it would be the best course of action to investigate. And so, Gwayne made his way across the great hall, approaching Jakob and his golden-haired companion. “Lord Jakob, how nice to see you here.” Despite the simplicity of his words, they seemed to spill forth like honey. He then turned to the young maiden after his greeting, lips curled into an endearingly lopsided smile. “And might I have the pleasure of making your acquaintance, my lady?”

Lord Jakob Frey, Lord of the Crossing Jakob chuckled as the Lannister commented on his position as a 'sheep'. It was a smart comment that seemed to draw him in, as well as completely avoiding answering the question, she clearly was a Lannister. Shrugging his shoulders he responded. "We cannot all be as highly born as yourself, the Twins are not considered as noble as Casterly Rock. If you are a lion or a dragon then anything else is a sheep. Besides, my Sigil is my home, it would make no sense to call me a Twin." Jakob smiled about to further his questioning when Gwayne Tyrell arrived. It was an unwanted interruption however Jakob knew the game, and especially knew not to offend the Tyrells. Bowing curtly he looked at Gwayne. "And Lord Tyrell, I assure you the pleasure is mine." As Gwayne then turned his attentions to his companion Jakob tried to bring the focus back to himself. "I was in fact asking my young friend why she was here amongst the noble rabble when her pride is up, front and center. In fact..." Jakob trailed off slightly as he peered over to the men and women forming up in front of the throne. "...I could ask why you are back here also. As one of the king's political wet nurses I would have assumed that you would be alongside the Stark boy." Jakob smiled sweetly, he despised an inability to stand up on your own and as far as he could tell Daeron had done nothing without the help of the Starks and the Tyrells. Screw playing the game right now.

Khailey Lannister She giggled at his comment about his sigil and then opened her mouth to respond when suddenly Lord Tyrell appeared. She bowed to him and then said, "My name is Khailey Lannister, my lord. I am the daughter of Ser Vernan Lannister, whom I trust you have met before." She listened to the exchange between the two lords and had to cover her mouth to stop herself from giggling at the jape that Lord Jakob made. She hoped that no one noticed, and she cursed herself for not showing more composure.

Gwayne Tyrell - Lord of Highgarden If Gwayne took any offence, he didn’t show it in the slightest; instead, he let a small chuckle escape him as he pretended to be amused by Jakob’s little joke. The Frey seemed awfully pleased with himself, but if he thought something so trivial would ward him off, he had another thing coming. Returning his smile, Gwayne formulated a reply - one that he hoped would make Jakob think twice about running his mouth off. “I assure you, my lord, the King makes all of his decisions independently. He simply knows who his friends are.” Gwayne’s golden-eyed stare never left Jakob for a moment - a simple technique he’d picked up over the years. A flickering gaze meant weakness or submission, and something like that wouldn’t be comely of the High Marshal of the Reach. “And yet, the same can’t be said for everyone. I’ve heard some… dreadful things about the affair in the Riverlands. It was your kin that the guards found in the Trident, wasn’t it? …I can hardly believe it myself.” His brow furrowed just so, lips pressed into a thin line, Gwayne appeared the very picture of tepid concern. In another life, he might’ve made a gifted mummer, but he was momentarily distracted from this little charade of sympathy when the Lannister girl introduced herself. “Ah, yes. Vernan’s girl. Your father has spoken of you many a time, my lady - only good things, of course.”

Lord Jakob Frey, Lord of the Crossing Jakob was starting to enjoy the Tyrell's company. The man was smart, ruthless and a much better player than himself. Certainly a man not to charge against so foolishly. The mention of the other Freys made Jakob instinctively go for his blade on his back, which he remembered was with his other effects, he always loved to touch his scythe as he remembered his 'family.' Steeling himself Jakob did not break the eye contact, he was not a weak man but he was a snart one and to face off with the Tyrells now would be a foolish move. "Unfortunately with so many branches of the family, trust and reliance were hard to come by when every brother too neice was looking to take your linheritance. I am proud to say that my family have once again restored complete order, rebuilt the Twins and reinforced it to hold off a horde. Be it the pesantry or the guards themselves. Sometimes friends are simply a luxery we cannot afford. Especially when you don't know your friends true intentions, made even worse if said friends are your family." Jakob was in no mood to verbally joust and he sighed as Gwayne turned his attentions to the Lannister girl. In truth Jakob was tired of the court already. He would kneel, swear fealty and then be excused from the real politics for the rest of the night. Not what he wanted but he had to serve at the king's leisure. And he was not going to try and claim that he held anywhere near the land or men that the other notable houses did. Still, therthere was always a way to change that. Loyalty was a valuable asset.

Lord John Stark of Winterfell John nodded to the knight as he replied to John's question. John then answered politely that things were as good as ever in the North. But maybe not for long. Being Daeron's Hand could bring unwanted attention from other Houses John thought to himself. "Who do you expect to gain the title of Hand?" John asked Vernan. Maybe other Lords' thoughts could move Daeron in another direction.

Khailey Lannister She smiled politely at the Lord of Highgarden. "You're too kind, my lord." She then glanced over at her father before she bowed to each of the lords in turn. "Excuse me, but I must be going. My father is waiting for me." She started to leave, slowing only momentarily to brush the soft flesh of her bare shoulder lightly against Lord Jakob's arm when she walked by, as if it were an accident . Ser Vernan Lannister The knight listened to him explain what was going on in the North with feigned interest, but when he came to ask him who he thought would be hand, the conversation suddenly became more intriguing. "Were it up to me," he started to say, knowing that it would be too transparent of him to name a Lannister. "I would choose you in fact. No one knows the king better, am I right?" He said it only to gauge the boy's reaction.

Lord Jakob Frey, Lord of the Crossing As Khailey took her leave Jakob smiled as she brushed past. Whether it was a mistake or a move Jakob wasn't too know but he enjoyed the touch for a nrief second and then returned to the present. Slightly watching the slender form disappear. Jakob felt that the meeting was totally over now and took a short, curtious, bow. "Lord Tyrell, I believe you are needed elsewhere, I'm sure we will begin soon." And with that Jakob left. Pushing through landless gentry and some more notable knights he found a place for himself, just another face in the crowd really. He would serve his king as he should and nothing more. There was other business to attend too, perhaps the visit would be more fruitful in the coming days and he could properly network with the other houses. Now was slightly impromptu for any real meetings.

Lord John Stark of Winterfell John grimaced at what the Lannister said of his thoughts on who should be named the Hand. "I was worried that you would say that," he said. He knew that if Daeron offered him the position he would be forced to accept. It wasn't a job that you could say no to. John sighed as the chatter continued. He noticed the knight's daughter heading over. She had the famed locks of gold that Lannisters were known for and she was quite the beauty. John bowed as she approached. "My lady," he said, flashing a charming smile. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ King Daeron Targaryen of Westeros Daeron had finished his walk and was now ready to begin the ceremony. He notified his guards and the others that would need to be present at the occasion. He waited outside the door of the throne room, a black cape fitted over a red tunic. He took a deep breath as he marched in, the Kingsguard at his side. He took his seat on the Iron Throne. It was a cold, uncomfortable thing but his face showed no sign of his feelings. The coronation was quick. Maester Arran conducted it and then placed the crown his father had worn atop his head. He smiled as he realized what came next. The Lords of Westeros swearing fealty to him. This would be quite fun. Daeron was handed a list of the Lords who would be bowing the knee to show their house's respect. He shouted out the first name on the list, "Gwayne Tyrell!"

Khailey Lannister She smiled at her father as she approached and then stood at his side. Then when she saw John Stark, her smiled changed from dutiful to something more real. "I don't believe that we have truly met before, Lord Stark, but I know who you are. The last time that I saw you, I was still a child, but now I am a woman grown. My name is Khailey Lannister, and it's a pleasure to finally meet you properly." Before long, the coronation started and Khailey fell silent as she watched in utter boredom as the ceremony went by. She didn't have patience for things like this, but she made sure to keep a smile on her pretty face the whole time just as her father wanted her to. She had to remind herself to keep her poise at all times because she never knew who might be watching her.

Lord John Stark of Winterfell John smiled at Khailey. "And it seems you already know of me," he said after she introduced herself. Before they could continue their conversation, Daeron and the Kingsguard entered, and the room fell silent. Daeron was coronated and soon, the swearing of fealty began. "John Stark!" John's name rang through the hall and he marched dutifully up to the front of Daeron where he took a knee and bowed his head. When he stood again, he said in a powerful voice, "The North swears it's fealty to you, Daeron Targaryen, the one true king." The rest of the ceremony passed quickly and soon the sun was descending from it's perch in the sky. The lords and ladies had time to rest before the feast and so John was on his balcony, his hand stroking his direwolf, Shiera's, head. The wolf had been brought up with his luggage and was waiting patiently when he had returned from the ceremony. "Shiera, Daeron has yet to come speak with me. Maybe this means I won't be named Hand of the King after all," John hoped aloud, the winds bringing the scent of the sea to his nose.